BK: Before Kurt
by The Songbirds Are Singing
Summary: A multi-chaptered story about what happened to Blaine between the Sadie Hawkins Dance and NBK.  Rated T for language and violence.
1. BK: 23rd November 2008

**A/N: This is a story about what happened to Blaine before Kurt came along; this is the first chapter, and I know it's been done before, but please take a look at it anyway and drop a line to tell me what you thought. Thanks! **

**Rated for violence and some homophobic slurs; I hated writing it, but I wanted it to be realistic. Don't read it if that's bad for you.  
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**I don't own _Glee_. xx :)  
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BK: Before Kurt**  
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"I actually had a good time tonight." I said shyly, gently swinging our hands together where we stood on the curb.

"Me too. Can you believe how quiet people were about it?" My date Joshua said with a grin and I shook my head. It all felt a little too good to be true as it was.

"It's honestly made me feel so much more positive about the whole thing." I confessed. "Maybe not everyone is as narrow-minded as we think they are."

"Just the football team, huh?" Joshua retorted, and I shrugged, embarrassed at my naïve view. He was a very cynical person, and although on the plus side, that meant he usually gave good advice, I tended to feel like a stupid kid when I was around him sometimes. Maybe that was true; I was two years younger than him. Just a freshman, while he swaggered around our decidedly average high school like he owned the place; even when people sneered at him and called him names for daring to wear skinny jeans, and anything more fashionable than a scarf.

We stood where we were outside the school gates, my hand warm in Josh's, waiting for his father to come and pick us up. Almost everyone else had gone home: the only people I could see other than us were a few hulking boys several yards away drinking beer out of the bottle and talking loudly. I tried my best not to listen to what they were saying, as there was a good chance it would be about us. It generally was when either of us were nearby- and just as bad for my friend Kayla, who was also out.

For some reason, all the losers who picked on us thought she was going to make out with any girl who walked past her, that she was some sort of slut who would get with a cheerleader because they yelled at her to in the hallways. Each time they yelled something degrading, I could see her opinion of herself sinking lower and lower than it already was, and- considering she was more of a member of family to me than my actual sister-I felt like launching on our tormentors and punching them until they cried. She was gradually being broken down, and as soon as I got home I was going to call her and tell her about how well tonight had gone. She hadn't bothered to ask anyone, but I knew she would want to know that I'd had a good time.

"Hey, queers!" The slurred shout rang out across the empty street we were on, and I tightened my grasp on Josh's hand, refusing to turn around.

"D'you have fun tonight?" Another voice said mockingly, and I let out a little gasp of shock. That was my brother's best friend's voice; a boy who I'd known all my life. He'd never shown the slightest bit of interest in teasing me before; he hadn't exactly ever stopped the bullying, but then who had?

"Leave us alone." Josh said loudly, but we knew they wouldn't listen. He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me slightly closer to him, but the reassuring gesture didn't stop my heart rate increasing slightly in worried anticipation of what was about to come. I heard the group of about six guys approaching, stumbling into each other and laughing raucously. The ringleader (a boy I recognised as being on the hockey team) strutted forwards, a bottle clasped in his hand and a stupid grin on his face.

"Hey lady-boys." He sneered. We didn't say anything. "What're you still doing here?"

"We are waiting to be picked up." I said, trying not to let my voice shake. For some unknown reason, this made them angry. The hockey player moved forwards, cracking his knuckles threateningly as his friends nudged each other's shoulders and muttered to themselves. Josh took his arm away from me and raised his hands in a surrender position.

"Ok, back away." He said steadily. "You don't have to hit us, just leave us alone."

"Please." I added in a small voice, fully aware that it wouldn't make the situation any better. I was already the weak one.

"Aw, little the little girl's scared." One boy laughed, reaching forwards and shoving me slightly.

"Hey!" Josh shouted, marching forwards and pushing him back.

"That's it." The boy snarled, launching himself at Josh and crushing him to the ground. I heard myself cry out, then someone's fist collided with my stomach and I fell down beside him.

"Blaine!" Josh's voice yelled from somewhere to my right, but my vision was suddenly filled with the football quarterback bearing down on me. He started punching me everywhere he could reach, the breath being knocked rapidly out of me. I wheezed out Josh's name in between whimpering for them to stop, but soon speech was impossible. He hit my face and I let out a loud yell, which he seemed to enjoy. He did it again. And again and again, until my whole face had swelled up and I could taste coppery blood leaking into my mouth from my torn skin and a cut lip. I was crying in agony and the quarterback backed off for a moment to take a swig of beer, before coming back to me and beginning to kick my ribs.

I was starting to go numb from the pain, and barely even noticed when I heard rather than felt one of my ribs give a loud _crack_. I glanced up from the ground when the blows stopped, and cried when I saw one of the boys smashing a bottle on the ground so that it had a jagged split all around the bottom. He bent down over me, laughing, before lifting me into a sitting position and plunging it into my leg. I yelled and yelled, begging them to stop at the top of my lungs, but the boy with the bottle just laughed and dug the ragged edge into my shoulder before releasing me. My head slammed into the ground and I saw stars as I continued to scream, my voice starting to go hoarse.

The attackers all left me, and gathered around Josh, bearing down on him instead. Through a gap in between their bodies, I saw the bottle edge being dragged across Josh's shirt. It would rip through his shirt and then his skin, I knew it, and there was nothing I could do. I waited for the scream I was sure he would give as I wept and yelled, but it didn't come. The small part of my brain noted that as strange while the rest of me couldn't forget how much my leg and my ribs and my head and my shoulder hurt.

I shut my eyes and willed it to stop, willed myself to pass out or something, anything to stop the pain of my ripped flesh and the sharp stab in my chest whenever I took a breath. I coughed as I struggled to get my breath, but spluttered over the excruciating jab I felt run through me. I began to shake and realised that it was very cold. A light swept over my closed eyelids and I heard the boys scattering, stumbling over their feet and still laughing like maniacs. There was the sound of an engine shutting off, and a door opening, accompanied by my sobbing over which I no longer had any control.

"Help me." I rasped, ignoring the pain that shot through my chest. But no one came. I heard someone talking to Josh, but he didn't answer. Why didn't they come to me? I would answer, I wanted to answer.

"Please, help me." I said again, and this time I think the person heard me. I heard someone hurry over, and kneel down beside me.

"Blaine." Muttered a man, and I recognised him as Josh's father. He tried to move me, but I moaned in pain. "Sorry." He muttered, and I heard the sound of buttons being pushed on a cell phone, just three beeps. Then the pain became too much and I blacked out.


	2. BK: 26th November 2008

Blaine could hear something. It was like a rhythm, like a drum was beating right next to his ear. Except that it wasn't a drum, it was a beeping noise. Kind of like the ones he'd seen on Scrubs, one of his favourite shows. He and Josh always watched it on a Friday night; it was sort of their thing, a tradition ever since they'd first made friends in the last year of middle school, after Josh's mom had gotten a job in Westerville, so he ended up transferring to Blaine's school.

At first, Blaine hadn't realised that Josh was gay, until he happened to mention a crush he had on Johnny Depp. Blaine had done a double take, before hesitantly stuttering out his agreement. Thus, Josh was the first person he came out to. Blaine supposed it had made him feel closer to him, made him feel they had some sort of bond, perhaps.

Once they had both come out to their families, it got around school, and the bullying started. For Josh, actually, it just got worse, but Blaine lost everything. Josh had always been unpopular because he was quiet, shy, and read a lot. Blaine, on the other hand, was popular, a football player, and had even dated a few cheerleaders in an attempt to change. Josh had hated that, and Blaine had been downright ashamed of himself, but he was desperate enough to prevent it all from happening that he would have tried almost anything.

Sure enough, when Blaine had broken under the pressure of trying to hide his secret and come out to his family, it had gone badly. His parents had yelled at him, then they had yelled at each other, then his siblings had yelled at him and each other _and_ their parents, and in the end he had gone and curled on his bed and cried himself to sleep.

He was asleep again, he realised as he pulled himself out of the dark pit where he had been living for a second, a decade, he didn't know. Maybe he should wake up, he thought, maybe he was missing something. He felt that there was something- no: some_one_- that he should be worrying about, that he should be seeing. But it was so _hard_, so difficult to connect the feeling to whatever it was he was missing. Maybe he would just drift back to sleep…

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><p>"This is <em>all your fault<em>!" Claire Anderson screeched, her face red and teary as she confronted her husband. "If you hadn't refused to pick the boys up, Josh's dad wouldn't have been late, and our son wouldn't _be here_!"

"You think I don't know that?" Her husband, Steve, yelled back, desperately trying not to let the tears fall. He _knew_ it was all his fault, _knew_ that if he hadn't been so stupid and petty then his son wouldn't be in a _coma_, in hospital. It made him sick to think that he had been so ashamed that he had let Blaine get into danger.

All his fault.

And nothing he could do but wait. Wait and hope that it would all be ok.

Wait and hope.

That his son would live.

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><p>"I'm so sorry." The doctor said it, but Josh's mother could see the slightly detached look in his eyes that meant that he wasn't probably thinking it. But then, how could he? If he had to tell peopleevery day that their loved ones were dead, how would he do it if he felt it every time.<p>

Felt it like Josh's mother felt it as she sank to the ground and wailed.

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><p>As he slept, Blaine heard. He heard his mother, his sister, his brother all begging him to wake up and be with them again. But there was one voice he was waiting for: Josh's.<p>

It did not come. But there was one that did, one he had not been expecting.

"Blaine, son? Can you hear me?" From deep within his sleep, Blaine heard his father's voice speaking to him. But it did not beg, as the others had done. Blaine did not want it to. The voice he knew so well continued. "I know you probably hate me right now. I hate me. I hate what I said to you, what I thought, how I neglected you. And I know that you probably don't want to wake up, so I'm not going to make you. If you need to go, Blaine, you can go. I'll miss you and love you forever, and I'm sorry. God, I am so _sorry_, Blaine. I'm sorry, I love you and I hope you have the strength to carry on your life, whether it's here or in the next."

Blaine wanted to sit up. He really did, but he didn't have the energy to, so he did the next best thing. He opened his eyes.

"Blaine!" His father exclaimed, making Blaine jump a bit. Everything was very bright, and he felt utterly exhausted, even though he had just been unconscious for; wait, he didn't know how long. He'd have to ask. After he got some water. He tried to ask for some, but he couldn't, he just coughed, causing a terrible pain in his chest. He lifted his arm slightly to feel the area, and felt come tightly wound bandages. Of course: broken ribs. He remembered everything, and remembered it so clearly that for a second he was stunned. The memories flowed into his mind, fighting for space as he remembered every hit, every punch, every tiny detail. Including Josh. A tiny cry escaped his throat, and he noticed that his father had gone. Maybe to get someone, to tell someone he was awake, Blaine thought.

Sure enough, not a minute later, Blaine's father came racing back in, tailed by a doctor and a nurse, and all looking a mix between happy and worried.

"Hi, Blaine." The doctor- who looked the calmest- said. He began to look at the chart at the bottom of Blaine's bed, nodding or muttering things to the nurse every now and then. As he did so, Blaine felt a pressure on his hand. He looked down, and saw to his astonishment that his father was holding it. Wordlessly, he gripped his dad's hand back as hard as he could- which wasn't very- and then turned back to the doctor. He remembered exactly what his father (although recently he had begun referring to him as Steve, as he became less and less of a presence in his life) had said.

"So, Blaine." The doctor said. "You have been unconscious for a few days, three to be exact, and you have begun to make an excellent recovery. My only fear was what state you were going to be in when you woke up, so I'm going to ask you some questions and run a few tests, but if that all goes well you should be able to go home very soon."

"How soon?" Steve asked.

"I would say within the next couple of days." The doctor said with a smile. "Are there any other questions you have? If not, my college will stay here and help you out with everything else."

"We're ok, then, thank you." Steve said, and the doctor left. The nurse stayed, and began fiddling with the machines next to Blaine's bed. Blaine had never understood any of that stuff, not that he had wanted to. He definitely did not want to be a doctor when he was older; despite the fact that both his brother and sister were at medical school.

"How are you feeling, then?" The nurse said, and Blaine managed to fix him with a scathing glare before he coughed again. The nurse looked a little sheepish, and offered to get Blaine some water. Blaine nodded as vigorously as he could, and watched as the nurse scurried out. He felt bad for making the nurse look stupid, but right then he did not care. He did not care that he was a bit warm, he did not care that he was tired, he did not even care that he hadn't had anything to eat or drink for three days. All he cared about was getting that water so he could ask what had happened to Josh, and all he cared about was that his father's hand did not relinquish its grasp on Blaine's.

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><p>The nurse didn't come back. Blaine supposed that he had gotten distracted. Eventually his father got the water for him, and by that time he was so tired he didn't ask about Josh. He just slept, and when he woke and saw Josh's mother sitting beside his bed, tear tracks on her face and the most desolate expression he had ever seen, he knew. Knew beyond a doubt that the one person who understood him, his only friend in the whole world, had left him.<p>

Josh was dead.


	3. BK: 28th November 2008

**A/N: This might end up being a double update, and if so, I'm sorry, I'm not sure if I uploaded this with an AN yet or not. I'm so, so, so sorry I've taken so long to update, but I've had effing exams and a whole load of other stuff, and it took me ages to get back into the right mindset to write. Hope you enjoy, and please review! xx :)**

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><p>"Today's the day!" Blaine's doctor swept in, a bright smile on his face. "You ready to go home?" Blaine shrugged a shoulder, still gazing at the ceiling, at the fan that whirled away all the time. He had barely moved for two days, ever since he had asked about Josh. When they had eventually told him that Josh was dead, even though he'd already figured it out, Blaine hadn't said anything as such. He had bitten his lip so hard that he drew blood, to stop himself from crying, and turned away from the people in the room so they couldn't see his face, ignoring the pain it caused his ribs.<p>

"Come on, Blaine." His mother said enthusiastically. She had that typical plastered-on smile that she always wore when she was pretending to be happy. Blaine could read her like a book, he always had been able to. And he knew that she was hurting inside, because the smile didn't reach her eyes, and her hands were nervously fiddling. And every now and then, she would glance down and take a steadying breath, stopping herself from crying. It killed Blaine that he couldn't reach out and hug her, but he couldn't honestly bring himself to do much at all just then. He was just so tired.

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><p>Blaine didn't want to go home. It wasn't like he enjoyed being in the hospital, in fact he loathed it, but at least it was safe. At home meant being outside that safe zone, although it was better than being at school, say. Privately, Blaine knew he never planned on returning to that school, whether it meant barricading himself in his room or bargaining everything he had with his father to let his transfer somewhere, <em>anywhere<em> else, he didn't care. All he knew was that his time at North Westerville High School was done.

There was another problem with going home: his mother had insisted that everyone be there for his homecoming, even his sister, who was away at Harvard, studying to be a doctor. Blaine's family were…hard work. His mother was by far the best of them: she loved him, he knew that, and she jumped at any opportunity to make him happy. The problem was that she was weak: not strong enough to stand up for him when his dad yelled and ranted and raged at him, not strong enough to go to the school when she saw the bruises, the split lips, the constant frown he wore.

Blaine's sister, Elisa (the genius), was a different matter altogether. She was as stuck up as they came, always ready to make a snide comment and had an actual belief that anyone who wasn't beautiful and smart like her was barely even worth talking to. Which unfortunately included Blaine; he didn't think that she had spoken to him since he was about four years old and he'd asked her what she thought of a picture he drew of her. He vividly remembered that her exact words had been "piss off, Blaine, I don't care."

Blaine's father _had_ been awful. He had always been distant, but the second Blaine came out, that was it. The glances when he said something were replaced by glares, the talk about Blaine's future at his father's law firm ended completely, and every time Blaine sang, played piano or his guitar, he saw his father get a little bit more disappointed in him. And it _killed_ Blaine. He wanted to desperately to please his father, to gain his approval, but it was useless. At least now he was sort: you didn't just make the apology of a lifetime at someone's bedside, and then go back on it. At least, Blaine hoped not.

Finally, Blaine's brother, Cooper. A senior in high school, he was the one who hurt Blaine the most. Not because he was more neglectful than his sister or his father, but because they used to be close. Blaine had always idolised his brother, had always imitated everything he did when he was a little kid. It wasn't even when Blaine had come out that they had drifted apart, it was when Cooper went to high school, when he met his stupid, horrible, _awful_ friends that ruined everything and made Blaine's life a misery once he came out. Every time they came over, they would shoot him looks, crude gestures, even the odd threatening one.

Moreover, they were the ones that did it. Blaine knew their names, their addresses, even some of their _families_. Later in the day after he woke up, two policemen came in. He willingly gave them the information, preferring not to say anything that wasn't 100% necessary. They were perfectly nice, but he could see the tension in their voices when he told them why he and Josh were attacked. Still, he was used to it, so he ignored the discomfort, gave them the information and put it out of his mind. His job now was to heal, and he was going to do that whether those boys were behind bars or not. Because _they couldn't touch him_.

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><p>"We're home!" His mother's oddly cheerful voice echoed through the too-large house, as she struggled to push Blaine's wheelchair into the living room off the hallway and close the door at the same time.<p>

"Mom, this thing is totally unnecessary." Blaine grumbled, speaking in a monotone- although it still caught his mother's attention, as he had taken to talking less and less lately, resorting to communicating with paper and pen on occasion. "I don't need a wheelchair, that's what the crutches are for."

"Don't be silly, Blaine, you're not walking on that leg, and your shoulder can't take the pressure." His mother insisted, finally getting the door shut and pushing him into the living room, parking him- thankfully- with his back to the wall, facing the door and windows. Blaine didn't like having his back to people, or places where people could just out at him; it made him uneasy, to say the least.

"Whatever, Mom." Blaine muttered, snapping his head up when he heard someone moving in the hallway. Before he knew it, his sister had charged into the room, launching herself at him and burying her face in his shoulder, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Blaine flinched violently, cringing away from her. He _hated_ it when people jumped out at him, more than anything. It wasn't recent either: ever since the bullying had started when he started high school a few months ago (the word that he was gay having got round over the summer, when all his friends mysteriously became too busy to see him) he had become jumpy and nervous.

"Get off me, please." He all but gasped, desperate to get some air. "Please, Elisa, you're hurting me." It was true: she was putting large amounts of pressure on the shoulder that had had the bottle driven into it. His leg was just as bad, but she wasn't touching that. He couldn't walk on it, though, not even a little without collapsing in pain. His mother gently but firmly pulled Elisa away, telling her to give him some space, but he was too busy taking deep, calming breaths to thank her. Yesterday, they had made Blaine see the hospital shrink, who told him that he needed to learn how to do two things: learn how to control his fear, and learn to trust people again. The latter was almost inconceivable (one of the two people in the whole world who he trusted was my mom; the other was dead), but the former he thought he could do, with practise. Just remember to breathe, he remembered the shrink telling me, just to focus on breathing and the rest would sort itself out.

And it did: a minute or so later, Blaine looked up again, his gaze meeting my sister's fleetingly before it dropped to his hands, which twisted in his lap. He didn't feel like talking, really, he'd done more since he got home than he had since the policemen's visit. Instead, he let her talk, and sat and listened silently.

"Blaine, I don't know what to say." She began, walking closer to him and crouching down in front of him. She searched his eyes for some sign that he cared what she was about to say, but he was blank. Gone were the sparks in the golden eyes she remembered being jealous of, that she remembered feeling bad for hurting. He was blank. "All I could think when Mom called me and said you were hurt was _I'm sorry, I didn't mean to necglect you, please forgive me_ because I was so, _so_ scared that I wouldn't get the chance to say it. But I have a chance, now, and I'm begging you to listen to me." The tears were still running down her face, but she ignored them and continued in a steady voice.

"I will do absolutely anything in the world to make up to you the time which I lost, too busy worrying about myself and not bothering to think that you needed me. I will leave school and come home to do your homework and bring you ice cream if you want; all I'm asking is that you forgive me. I love you, Blaine-y, and I'm not going to rest until you believe that."

When she was done Blaine nodded, reaching over to put a hand on her arm and meeting her gaze steadily before nodding, and wheeling himself over to the sofa. He wanted to lie down, and somehow his mother knew, so she helped him up as gently as she could, and laid him on his back on the sofa, him angling his head towards the TV and grabbing the remote off the coffee table. Talking was overrated, he decided. Besides, no one would probably want to listen if he did.

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><p>"Blaine!" Blaine was shocked awake by the loud voice, his whole body going rigid when his eyes snapped open and he saw a figure above him. It was blurry, someone had taken off his glasses, but he didn't care, he just pressed himself against the sofa cushions, ignoring the stabbing pain it sent from his broken ribs. The figure hastily stepped back, raising his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "It's ok, Blaine, it's just me. Your dad." Steve said, passing his son his glasses as the boy nodded shaking, cringing as he sat up slightly to put them on. "I got out of work as early as I could, so I could come home and see you."<p>

Slightly shocked by the gesture, and still not used to his father's friendly tone of voice, Blaine nodded.

"How are you feeling?" His dad asked, seemingly at a loss as to what to say. Blaine went to shrug, but stopped just in time as he remembered that he couldn't move his shoulder because of the bandaging, and any movement would send shockwaves of pain through his chest from his ribs. Instead, he just nodded again, and almost physically forced himself to talk. "Fine."

Although he knew it was a blatant lie, Steve pretended to believe him for the sake of Blaine's pride, and asked "do you need anything?"

Again, Blaine didn't want to talk, but his dad was making an effort, so he should be too. "Water, please?"

"Of course, son." Steve looked immensely relieved that it was something he could do, and leant over to ruffle Blaine's hair before he left to the kitchen. Blaine raised his good arm up to feel where his dad had made the affectionate gesture, remembering how Josh had always done the same thing when he was trying to get superiority (i.e. get control of the remote) because of the two year age gap. Cursing the fact that he could barely do anything without it reminding him of Joshua, he aimlessly looked back at the TV, wishing he could sleep, but knowing that it wasn't an option: sleep meant nightmares. He had mentioned it to the shrink, and they'd given him some sleeping pills, but he wasn't going to take them. He didn't need drugs controlling his life, he could handle it. Even though he knew he couldn't, not really.

Later that evening, Blaine was in his room, having had the humiliating experience of being carried up the stairs by his father. He had spent a surprisingly nice evening with his sister, watching old Disney movies while she chattered away and he nodded at the right moments. He didn't utter a word to her all afternoon, but when the last movie finished and she announced she was going to bed, he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, to show that he appreciated the effort she was making, even if he couldn't say it. Talking was becoming harder and harder for him, and every word he spoke made him feel more and more scared. He'd decided to stop trying, just letting it go and trusting that he would talk again when he was ready. Oddly, he felt as if the power of speech was somehow linked to Josh: it was almost as if every time he spoke, he was letting a little bit of Josh go, like he was forgetting him by being distracted by other people. Maybe he'd be able to hang on to Josh just a little longer.


	4. BK: 29th November 2008

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but I think that I've just come to accept the fact that I very rarely get inspiration, and that I spend too much time reading other people's fics to focus enough on my own. I will try and make more of an effort in future, but I'm about to enter a very stressful year of school, so I can't make any promises that the updating rate will increase. Enjoy, and please review. Reviews make me so, so happy. Xx :)**

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><p>The day after he returned home from the hospital was one of the longest of Blaine's life. When he was woken up by the sunlight streaming through his curtains at around eleven in the morning, all he could think of was how he wanted to do nothing less than get up. And in more than a 'my bed's really comfy' way: more in a 'I can't face my family and the day without some reassurance that everything's going to be ok' way. And that was something he didn't have: for all he knew, as soon as he was fit to be out and about again (i.e., once his leg had healed) he would be forced to return to school. For now, his mom had informed him the day before, he would do all his lessons at home. For all his determination to never set foot in the school again, Blaine was relatively certain that his father would force him out of the door- epiphany or no epiphany when it came to his son. His dad was all about keeping up appearances.<p>

Another reason why Blaine didn't want to get up was that his brother was due back that day. He had been staying with his girlfriend (a girl who was hardly more bearable than Cooper himself) because Blaine's mother was astute enough to know that his presence around Blaine probably wouldn't be beneficial. He'd been in the hospital while Blaine had been unconscious, but he didn't remember anything that he'd said. With all the time he'd had to think, Blaine wondered whether there was another reason why his mother hadn't allowed Cooper to be around Blaine after he woke up: the attackers had been Cooper's friends, and Blaine didn't doubt that Cooper would have attempted to convince Blaine not to tell the police the real story.

As he lay in his bed, contemplating how long it would be before his mom came to check up on him, he jumped at a loud ringing noise coming from his bedside table. Lifting his head slightly, he saw his phone sitting there, where it had been placed by his mom the evening before. The ambulance people had found it in his pocket, and aside from a few scratches, it was undamaged. With a groan, Blaine reached over and picked it up, sliding a practised finger over the screen and holding it up to his ear.

"Hello?" The voice came from the other end, almost frantic. Blaine recognised it immediately: Kayla. He'd actually not thought a whole lot about her in recent day, which made him feel immensely guilty. She hadn't even gone to the dance, as much as he and…Josh (damn it, why was it so hard to even _think_ his name?) had asked he to go with them in a trio. She's said she didn't want to be a third wheel, and now all he could think was how thankful he was that she hadn't gone in the end. Otherwise she could have ended up like him.

"Hello?" Kalya repeated, and Blaine realised with a drop in his stomach, that he couldn't answer. He just couldn't, he couldn't utter a word. He made a choking noise, trying to force the words out, but his brain and his mouth didn't seem to be cooperating. Kayla said the word again and again, growing more and more desperate and afraid: she had every right to be.

"Blaine, please answer me! Are you ok?" She kept asking, but Blaine couldn't say anything, and his breathing was becoming shorter and shorter, and the room was spinning and he thought he was going to pass out-

The line went dead. Blaine flopped back in his bed, shaking uncontrollably, and wishing, hoping, praying that she didn't think something bad had happened to him. She lived over half an hour away, but no doubt she would have grabbed her older sister and forced her to drive her over, and she would be on her way by now. Nevertheless, this did next to nothing to calm Blaine down, and all he could do was try to force himself to breathe, but it was getting harder and harder each time.

"Blaine?" His sister's voice came from the other side of the door, with gentle knocking. Blaine couldn't make any noise, having become convinced that he couldn't breathe, that he was _dying_ because everything felt so tight. "Sweetheart, it's time to wake up." She pushed the door open slightly, poking her head round the door. As soon as she saw him lying there, gasping and shaking, her almost-complete medical training kicked in.

She placed the tray with his breakfast on it on the floor, well away from the bed, and sat on the edge next to her frightened brother. "Blaine, sweetheart, you're having a panic attack." She said in a soothing voice, forcing herself to stay calm; even though inside she was terrified that it wasn't a panic attack; that it was something like an asthma attack but she didn't know he had it because she hadn't spoken to him in so long.

However, Blaine seemed to nod at this, a flash of assuredness coming into his eyes. His breathing didn't calm down, but the shaking did a little, and he was able to shift the pressure from his shoulder where it had been hurting. His ribs were in agony, with all the added stress he was putting on them with his laboured breathing. Blindly, Blaine shot out a hand to grasp at his sister's to reassure himself that he was still there, he was still alive. But still, there was the acute terror weighing on his mind that he was going the same way as Josh.

"Ok, Blaine, now I want you to focus on taking deep, slow breaths with me." Elisa said in the same calm voice, but making sure she sounded firm. "In…out…in…out." She said this over and over again, until gradually Blaine's grip on her hand relaxed slightly and he fell back on his pillows in a more relaxed position.

"Well done, Blainey." Elisa said quietly, smoothing his sweaty hair back from his forehead and smiling down at him. "That was a panic attack: they're common among people who had been victims of attacks. You handled it really well: I take it you've never experienced one before?" Blaine shook his head firmly, ignoring the twinge it made him feel in his shoulder. Almost everything he did hurt to some degree or another, so there was no point in trying to avoid the little things that caused him pain. "If you have more, we might need to get you to see a counsellor: they'll be able to help you recognise them, deal with them, and maybe even give you medication to help you with them." Seeing his irritated expression at this, she smiled again.

"Taking medication for something doesn't make you weak, Blaine." She said frankly. "All it means is that you need a little help with something, which is totally normal. If you had a physical medical condition, would you refuse to take medication?" Blaine shook his head a little. "It's just the same." Elisa said in reply. "And it wouldn't be forever: just until you feel safe again." Blaine's eyes filled with tears because that was exactly it, he_ didn't_ feel safe, even in his own home. And sure, his fears would probably quieten with time, but until then, he wouldn't mind a little bit of help.

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><p>About ten minutes after his sister finished talking to him, and Blaine had cried a little, the doorbell rang downstairs. Blaine immediately tensed up, unable to stop the terrified thoughts that raced around his head of <em>it's them, they've come to get me again, I won't make it out this time<em>, but when he heard a knock at his bedroom door and the "B? Honey, are you there?" that came with it, a wave of relief flooded over him. The door slowly creaked open, to reveal a tall-ish girl with curly brown hair and an extremely compassionate expression.

"B." She said, he voice croaking slightly with the effort she was putting behind trying not to cry. For a moment, she seemed at a loss as to what to do, but then Blaine patted the bed next to him, indicating for her to come over and sit with him. She did so, walking across the large expanse of carpet (being the baby of the family, five year old Blaine had been given the biggest room when they moved in) in her usual purposeful manner, her shoulder's hunched and her head dipped. She always adopted this posture when she felt unsure of herself, or worried about something; it had become more and more common to see her looking like that recently.

"I-how are you feeling?" She asked, once she had sat down on his bed. Blaine lifted a hand a waved it from side to side: the alternative to shrugging in his book at the moment. She looked vaguely nonplussed, before realising what was wrong, and also why he hadn't answered on the phone and freaked her out so much. "You can't talk, can you?" She asked, and Blaine bit his lip, looking out of the window by his bed and shaking his head. Kayla frowned for a moment, then stood up, making her way over to his desk. She had her 'idea' face on: one which appeared annoyingly often. She grabbed a sheet of paper, a hard backed book and Blaine's lucky pen, and brought them over to him.

"Here." She said. "Write." Blaine met her eyes, and knew immediately that she was asking him to tell her more than just 'how he was feeling'. She had been close to Josh as well, she was hurting. And she would be scared: the people who did this to him could do it to her as well. So Blaine sighed, gritted his teeth and began to pour his heart out onto a page. In a way, it was much easier: the paper was empty, ready to be filled by his thoughts. Paper didn't judge.

Five or so minutes later, Blaine looked up from where he had been writing non-stop, his messy scrawl now slanting across the page. Exhausted, he passed it over to Kayla, tugging her down so that he could snuggle into her side as she read it. They always used to sit like this when they watched movie when they were kids: she used to live across the street from him, and they'd been friends since he'd moved in when he was five from California for his dad's job. She wound an arm carefully around his waist, and he noticed her shoulders stiffen when she read the worst bits. Kayla was a very compassionate person, so he'd tried his best not to make it too graphic or scary, but she was still clearly upset. Blaine didn't blame her- he was too.

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><p><strong>AN: It was a bit of a weak ending, I know, but I wanted to split the action of that day between this and the next chapter, which should be up relatively shortly. Hope you enojed! Xx :)**


	5. BK: 30th November 2008

**A/N: I don't think I've ever updated this quickly before. Seriously, guys, be impressed. Thank you so much to everyone who alerted or favourited since the last chapter! Warning for one homophobic slur. Enjoy, and please review. Also, I hope you like Kayla, because she is loosely based on myself. Although she's a lot nicer. One more thing: I forgot to put a disclaimer on my last chapter, so here you go:**

**I don't own Glee. Or Friends, or anything else you recognise. I know, I was surprised too. Xx :)**

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><p>Blaine knew it was coming, even though his family had been extremely careful not to mention it ever since he woke up. The funeral. It had been almost a week since the attack, so it was bound to happen soon. Once she had read the note, Kayla took a deep breath, and informed him that it was due to take place the very next day. As she said it, tears spilled over the edges of her dull grey eyes, making Blaine's heart break. This was the girl who was the closest he would be able to find to someone who knew what he was going through; the girl who was tormented at school just as much as him, and yet who could still cheer him up at the end of a particularly hard day with a hot chocolate and an evening in the park, finding shapes in the clouds until it was so dark they couldn't see them anymore.<p>

"I-I'm going. His family's going, and yours is too, your mom told me after she let me in. Do you want to come?" Kayla's face was uncertain; the very fact that she had asked showed that she knew that it would be difficult. More than difficult: nigh on impossible. Blaine was absolutely not ready to say goodbye to Josh. He loved him, he needed him. It wasn't like he had been _in_ love with Josh; he just couldn't face going through life being discriminated against and persecuted without Josh beside him to keep him strong, to give him advice. For some reason, Kayla seemed to be able to read his mind. "I know you're not ready, Blaine. But you're not going to get another opportunity to say goodbye to him; not properly. You don't have to go; you could make up some excuse about being bedridden, but that wouldn't be the Blaine I know. The Blaine I know would go, with his head held high, to show those assholes that they _didn't _defeat you, that they _didn't _ruin you. That they _can't touch you_."

Blaine gazed up at his only friend left in the world, once again feeling guilty for having forgotten about her while he was in the hospital. He had thought the very same words to himself before he'd come home- before the full force of it all had completely sunk in. He reached for the book and pen and paper again, to communicate with Kayla.

_I can't. I can't face going outside, I'm too scared. The Blaine you knew is gone; he's been replaced by a coward._

Suddenly full of self-hatred, Blaine turned away as Kayla read his note. To his surprise, she grabbed his chin, and turned his face towards her, her usually passive features suddenly taking on a fierce expression. Blaine listened, purely because this mild aggression was very out of character for her.

"Are you telling me that they boy who spends half his life trying to keep up my self-confidence is calling himself a coward?" She asked, and Blaine felt vaguely sheepish at the hypocrisy. "Blaine, I can tell you without a doubt that you are the bravest person I know. You have faced up to the people who tell you no, and showed them that you're stronger than they are, for so long. I don't know what I'd have done if I hadn't met you and Josh; I might not even _be_ here. You saved me, and now, if I have to, I'm going to save you. From yourself. I'm not going to let you sit up here for weeks, convincing yourself that they're going to come and get you again. You're coming tomorrow, and you're going to face it like the courageous man I know you are. Because that's what it's all about, Blaine. _Courage._"

When she finished talking, Blaine threw his arms around her, nodding almost violently and ignoring the pain it caused him. She was right: he was going to go to that funeral, to show those bastards that they couldn't break him.

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><p>Later that afternoon, while Blaine and Kayla were sprawled on his bed, watching<em> Friends<em> reruns on his TV and eating ice cream, they heard a car pulling up on the driveway. Blaine immediately tensed up, raising his head to peer out of his bedroom window, which had the perfect view of the front of the house. They had a proper, long driveway and a fountain in the acre-long, perfectly manicured front garden. Blaine's family were, to put it mildly, very wealthy. His father had inherited a lot of money when his father had died, and he also ran one of the biggest law firms in the state; if not in the country. Anderson's Law Practise was very well respected, and had a lot influence in local politics, so image was everything, and instead of sending them to expensive schools, Blaine's father had attempted to seem accessible and like he had faith in the system by sending his kids to public school. Of course, his wealth was just another reason for Blaine to be teased by his classmates, and that had been happening since he could remember, it wasn't just a recent thing like the rest of the bullying. As a result, Blaine was very self-conscious about the amount of money he had, and he refused to spend any money that he didn't work for from his job at the local music store.

"I think your brother's here." Kayla said, craning her neck to see past Blaine and down onto the driveway. Sure enough, Cooper Anderson was getting out of his BMW convertible, swinging his leather jacket over his shoulder and putting on a pair of Ray Bans. Unlike his brother, Cooper had no issues with flaunting the family's money. Blaine nodded, then chose to ignore the event and turned back to the TV. Kayla didn't look so sure (she knew just what his brother was like), but she let him be, and focused her attention back onto _The One with the Cheesecakes_, one of Blaine's all-time favourite episodes.

Around half an hour later, there were heavy footsteps on the staircase that Blaine immediately knew were Cooper's. They were too fast for Steve's, and too heavy to be Elisa's or his mother's. A few seconds later, the door was thrown open and Cooper's tall figure entered unannounced. Despite the warning from the footsteps, Blaine still jumped as the door was thrown open. Kayla did too: a testament to the fact that his jumpiness had been caused by being harassed daily. Not that it had been helped by the attack.

"Little brother!" Cooper said loudly. "Oh, got a girl in here, have you? Has this whole accident thing scared you straight?" A year or so ago, that remark would have made Blaine furiously angry, but now he was so used to his brother being tactless and sometimes just downright cruel that he just sighed. Kayla stood up quickly.

"Don't be such an ass, Cooper." She said sharply. "People can't be 'scared straight' and you know it, so why should it matter if he has a girl in his bed?"

"Oh, right." He said, smirking. "I forgot that you're a little dyke, aren't you?"

"Actually, I'm bisexual." She said coolly- even though she knew full well that he wouldn't care- although she flinched slightly at the term.

"Like that's an actual thing. Just another word for slut." Cooper jeered, and Blaine sat up at that, a look of cool anger clear on his face. Something shifted inside him- the same thing that he felt whenever someone had ever teased Josh or Kayla at school. Blaine had always felt an overwhelming need to protect his friends, and he suddenly felt sure that speaking in this instance wouldn't be letting Josh go: it would be cementing Josh's memory.

"Don't talk to her like that." He said. His voice was hoarse from lack of use. Kayla looked at him, shocked.

"Blaine, did you just speak?" She said, but Blaine ignored her.

"Be rude to me all you want, but Kayla is my best friend and I will not let you insult her." Blaine said, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. Filled with it, he forced himself to stand up, prompting Kayla to gasp. "Now, I don't know what you're doing here, but unless you've come to apologise for being the worst brother in the whole of creation, I'd really appreciate it if you left, lest I injure myself further by punching you in the face." Cooper looked shocked.

"Since when do you have a spine?" He asked.

"For your information, Blaine has always had a spine." Kayla said. "You've just never given him the chance to show it."

Not used to being stood up to, big bully Cooper looked slightly taken aback. Rather than picking a fight, though, he thought better of it and moved towards the door, knowing that his mother would kill him- or worse, take away his very generous allowance- if he upset Blaine too much. "All right, little brother, I'll see you later. Try not to get your wussiness all over the carpet. Honestly, a real man would have stood up for himself and at least got a few punches in." Were his parting words. As soon as he shut the door, Blaine's legs gave out and he collapsed on the floor, only just becoming aware of the searing pain radiating out from the wound in his leg. Standing up had been a stupid idea, but he hadn't really been thinking about it at the time. It had kind of been a spur-of-the-moment thing.

Wordlessly, Kayla immediately bent down to help him up, throwing his uninjured arm over her shoulder to help him back to bed. She was significantly taller than him, which made it rather awkward, but it was that or Blaine dragging himself across the floor with one arm. Once Blaine had collapsed back onto the bed, panting at the effort, Kayla spoke.

"You don't believe him, right?" She asked. Blaine frowned, as if to say 'what do you mean?' "About the whole 'real man' thing." Blaine shook his head as much as he could without it hurting (which wasn't much at all), and offered her a very tiny, but very real smile. For some reason, standing up to his brother had felt really good. Kayla smiled back and bent down to kiss his forehead, then messed up his hair as she straightedned back up.

"I have to get home: my sister will starve if I don't feed her," she said, her tone lighter. "See you tomorrow, Blaine." As soon as she said those words, the slightly good feeling that Blaine had had in his chest vanished. Of course. Tomorrow was the funeral of his best friend Josh. And here Blaine had been, talking and _smiling_ as if nothing was wrong. Well, he wouldn't let that happen again, he decided. It was wrong to be happy when Josh was dead, and when he, Blaine, was injured and when Kayla had to go into school alone to face the bullies that they only knew how to stand up to together.

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><p>"Are you ready, Blainey?" Elisa walked into the living room, fixing a pair of earrings onto her ears as she spoke. Blaine was sitting in his wheelchair by the window, staring out at the driveway as he waited for his mother to come back from the store. She had gone out to buy flowers to lay on the grave; lilies, Josh's favourite. When she got back, they were going to leave. Blaine didn't want her to come back. He didn't want to go. He was only going to prove to Kayla- to prove to himself- that he could. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to Josh, so he wouldn't. He had perfected the art of zoning out over the recent months of having insults thrown at him, so he knew he would be able to pretend to himself that he wasn't there. He would say goodbye to Josh, he promised himself, one day. Just not now. Only when he was ready.<p>

Elisa sighed, observing her baby brother as he gazed out of the net curtain-covered window. She'd missed a lot of his childhood- not just from being too busy, but from just not caring enough-, and now all she wanted to do was make him feel ok again. The level of hatred for the people who had done this to him scared her a bit, but the worst part of it was that there was really nothing she could do. The police knew the names of the people who had done it, and from what she'd heard, once they had the CCTV footage of outside the school, they should be convicted with enough evidence to be put in jail. Hopefully for a very long time. After all, not only had they seriously hurt Blaine- mentally almost just as much as physically, as she had begun to realise- and put him in a coma, but they had _killed _someone. These people were murderers, and they shouldn't be allowed to just walk around on the streets like they were innocent.

The car pulled up on the driveway, and a moment later Blaine's mom rang the doorbell to tell everyone she was there. Blaine began to wheel himself towards the door, even though it was agony for his shoulder, but his sister grabbed the handles of his wheelchair before he could get far, and pushed him instead. Sitting back a little, Blaine sighed, and began putting up the shields to block the world out for the next few hours.

The only time that he let himself back into reality was when they arrived at the church where the funeral was being held and met up with Kayla and her sister. Kayla looked really pretty, Blaine thought, but all he could really see were her puffy eyes and red nose. It was very evident that she had been crying, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Blaine wondered whether he should be concerned that he hadn't been crying. At all. Not since he first woke up in the hospital, and had first found out about Josh. Something told him that that wasn't normal.

The funeral was more or less exactly like the ones he'd seen on TV: people cried, gave speeches about what a wonderful boy Josh had been, and then the entire party traipsed outside in the rain- because of course it was raining, rain was Josh's favourite weather- and watched as the coffin containing Josh's bruised, broken body was lowered into the ground. Apparently not only had he been stabbed right in the chest, but his legs had been broken and he'd suffered spinal damage. The only small mercy that Blaine could find in the situation was that the doctors thought that his spine had probably been damaged before his legs were broken, so at least he wouldn't have felt any pain from it. The stab wound, though, was literally a knife through the heart.

The wake, held at Josh's house a few blocks away from the church, was dull. It was grey and black and washed out and boring. Everything that Josh never was, so Blaine couldn't see how it was supposed to be a good send of for him. At his funeral, he would make sure that everyone wore bright colours and didn't dwell on the fact that he had died; instead, he wanted the focus to be on the fact that he'd lived. Life was fragile and precious: it should be celebrated.

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><p><strong>AN: Man, that was a cheesy ending. Ah, well, I hope you enjoyed it, and please review! Xx :)**


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